Almanac Pubs: Mystery Pub – The Hotel Royal
She was one in a million
So there’s five more just in New South Wales
This is from the song, ‘Up Against the Wall’ by The Whitlams and stick with me as I connect it arithmetically, if not desperately, to The Hotel Royal in the Adelaide suburb of Torrensville. On Henley Beach Road, of all places.
So, nationwide, how many Royal Hotels are there?
As Deane Hutton used to say on The Curiosity Show, ‘I’m glad you asked’ and I can tell you in Australia there’s roughly 240. In the 19th century even Bendigo had four such pubs: Royal Duke, the Royal George, The Royal and the Royal Mail which made bewildering the generalised if earnest invitation, ‘Let’s meet at the Royal.’ Especially if all communication was by telegram.
On this 26-degree winter’s afternoon (weather both welcome and existentially troubling) Claire and I navigate through this renovated pub to the Back Pocket sports bar. The roof’s open, there’s chirpy folk about, and a girl’s strumming a guitar and applying herself to some Friday tunes.
Having secured our corner table, I set off bravely to buy booze and returned in minor triumph with a Sauvignon Blanc (never to be described as Savvy B. Oops, failed.) and one of my preferred occasion beers, a Stone and Wood Pacific Ale. However, while at the bar I had this conversation.
Me: I’m unsure what beer to buy.
Barkeep: Hahn Super Dry is only $9.
Me: It’d still be over-priced if it was a dollar.
Barkeep: Oh.
Pleasingly, our chosen drinks were comforting if unspectacular. Festooned across the walls on the TV screens, Fox Footy talking heads ‘provided’ pre-game ‘content.’ Mercifully, the sound was on mute.
On the ceiling were some electrical appliances which rank highly for me. Yes, I know, the accurately and funnily named, Big Ass Fans. While these were still, it was of considerable comfort to see them sitting above us with quiet majesty. Next time you’re at the Adelaide Oval (or in The Royal) check them out for these are truly Big Ass Fans.
With, ‘I was tired of my lady’ the singer then played ‘Escape (The Pina Colada Song)’ which despite its depiction of a largely grim marital situation, I always find amusing. I do enjoy some aural pub nostalgia, and this ranks highly on my list of 1970s one-hit wonders.
I’m not much into health food and I’m not into champagne so it was timely that our plate of wedges then appeared. Like that first opening of your motel room door, the delightful arrival of food is one of hospitality’s petite joys.
I tried to order the wedges (Wedges? We don’t need no stinkin’ wedges!) using a QR code but our table number wasn’t included so I had to walk upwards of seven metres to the inside bar and place the order by actually speaking to the barkeep. I thought of sending a telegram but this wasn’t on the app. No-one was harmed and you’ll be relieved to learn, I did recover. Can’t life in 2024 be tricky?
They were, I’m thrilled to report, most succulent spud segments.
The bacchanalia continued with Claire then buying me a second beer and an espresso martini for her kindly self. Our corner table now resembled Caligula’s palace on a most raucous Thursday (well, not entirely). What an hour we were having!
With that twilight moment arriving when the afternoon folk depart and the dinner crowd’s still in transit, we took our leave. Mystery Pub was done for August.
We had things to do, and on the couch in front of Escape to the Country with its reception rooms and chickens and ruddy-cheeked village lifestyle, I was scheduled to take my obligatory Friday nap.
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About Mickey Randall
Now whip it into shape/ Shape it up, get straight/ Go forward, move ahead/ Try to detect it, it's not too late/ To whip it, whip it good
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Congrats on getting references to ‘The Curiosity Show’ and ‘succulent’ into the same article. Another excellent piece. Mickey. BTW I went to a quick night where a succulent Chinese meal was the answer.
‘Democracy manifest’
Thanks, Barry. ‘Succulent’ is a word that can only be used sparingly, and I reckon one of those situations is with regards to a Chinese meal!
Dr. Deane Hutton was a guest lecturer when I started at uni and he used the ‘stink eye’ when students weren’t paying attention with devastating effect. It was inspirational.
Yes, there is a fair bit going on this one, Mickey.
I refuse to use QR codes when ordering. They drive me nuts.
Thanks Mickey.
My last visit to the Royal was after a Charlie Musselwhite/Ben Harper concert at Thebby. The place was jumping.
Succulent is a succulent word.
There are one or two exceptions, but I am generally of the opinion that footy talking heads make more sense when the sound is on mute.
Smokie- and those red-flashing buzzers you’re given that impatiently demand you rush up and collect your meal! I’d much rather that croaky (female) voice over the PA saying, ‘Number 37! Your mixed grill’s ready!’
Peter- I’ve not seen Ben Harper but would love to. An old friend insists seeing him in concert is a near spiritual event. There’s very little about Fox Footy that’s near spiritual.
Thanks.
Mickey.
Ben Harper is exceptional. So is Charlie. It may be a perspective thing. My daughter was at the same concert. To her it was Ben supported by Charlie. To me it was the other way around.
Try the album they recorded together – No Mercy in This Land.
And I reckon Charlie’s version of Christo Redemptor (from Stand Back) verges on the spiritual.
60ish years ago Grandad would pull up at the Royal early Saturday evening to refresh his throat after an afternoon’s loud abusing (first opponents; then umpires; before rounding on Eagles players in the last quarter) at Thebarton Oval. Where does Thebarton end and Torrensville start?
If West Torrens lost he would have 2 beers and Gran would buy me a shilling’s worth of mixed lollies from the nice ladies at the Blue and Gold Cafe across the road. Wins were one beer and head home happy with sixpence worth of lollies.
This trajectory may have contributed to my dental bills and grandad’s early demise.
In those days the Royal Hotel was politely referred to as a “blood house”. Not sure if it was the clientele or proximity to Thebarton Oval.
Thanks PB. If my sources are correct the following are all in Torrensville: The Brickworks, Thebby Oval and Thebarton Theatre! So, Torrensville is more Thebarton than Thebarton.
Thanks Peter Crossing. Reckon that album might be a good one to play later today while the beef curry cooks!
Begs the question whether any King Charles pubs have been created recently. Been to the Royal a few times and won a prize for a sports quiz question, it was a piss easy who am I about Bill Lawry. So glad you didn’t feel the need to use the word ‘resilient’ – becoming the new ‘awesome’.
Thanks Bernard. I reckon naming pubs after Camilla might be more appropriate. My all-time favourite quiz question remains: Apart from AB, name the Test player who represented Australia in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s? Peter Sleep. I once thought the only awesome experience of my life was seeing the Grand Canyon but recently, I’ve learnt it can be successfully ordering a cappuccino.
Love it MR, the unhurried way you have with a tale so invites the reader to settle into the experience you’re sharing. The humorous/supportive comments/responses that follow add the right amount of context/history.
Thanks Rick. One should never be in a hurry when either in the pub or discussing it! Imagine you’re keen to see the Hawks on Friday. They could do some damage.
Well played-Mickey I’m with Smokie I admit more chance of me winning x lotto than try that bloody-QR code thingy
Further to your “number 37, your mixed grill’s ready”, can I refer you to the great song from the old days of Ian MacNamara’s Australia All Over programme. “Number 97 to the snack bar please, carton of chips, hamburger and cheese”? One for the Hall of Fame if you listen all the way through. And no QR codes, mercifully!!
Thanks Rulebook. I’m off to Port Elliot for a few days and I head to the Royal Family tonight. From memory there’s no QR codes involved in the ordering process but I’m now mentally prepared!
Cheers Bucko. Will listen. Macca’s been the Scott Pendelbury of radio, hasn’t he?